


Love is for children. (We were children.)

by natashova



Series: Sick of Avenging on a Tuesday [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky and Natasha are more complicated, Deaf Clint Barton, Established Clint Barton/Tony Stark, Multi, POV Third Person, Peter just wants to do his damn Chemistry homework, Post-Avengers (2012), Red Room (Marvel), References to tigers, Thor walks in on a BJ, Wholesome Tower Shenanigans, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28550193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natashova/pseuds/natashova
Summary: “This is my job. It’s all I’ve known and all I intend to be. I will be the greatest Black Widow the world has known because it is my duty to.”“See, the thing that worries me most is that I believe that, entirely.” He looked bitter. “One day you’ll be known by that title, I’m sure of it. When we next meet, I’ll be the Winter Soldier and you’ll be the Black Widow. And I won’t even remember your name, or the way you stole my damn knives because they were ‘sleeker’.”OR:Thor interrupts a blowjob, there are unexpected (unwilling) visitors and Natasha takes a trip down memory lane. Clint loves her stories.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov
Series: Sick of Avenging on a Tuesday [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944061
Kudos: 24
Collections: WinterWidow





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of my Tuesday Avengers series, but you can probably read this without reading the other one. (Read the other one anyway! The Avengers deal with tigers in NYC.)

Tuesday afternoon started with an almighty crack of lightning and a loud clunk on the landing pad.

“Hey, was that Thor?” Tony sat up, before having his head quickly shoved back down.

“Blowjob now, Thor later.” Clint commanded, threading his hand back into Tony’s hair. The billionaire rolled his eyes and went back to the job at hand, smirking as his boyfriend's eyes rolled back into his head.

“Shit, Tony, I'm so-“

“Friends!” Thor boomed, “I have returned from- ah.”

Clint jumped half a metre into the air, causing Tony to choke on the dick in his mouth and pull off with a surprised grunt.

“Hey, buddy. How’s about knocking next time? I wouldn’t mind, but Barton over here seems to have an aversion to exhibitionism.” Tony grinned, licking his lips and winking at Clint, who was stuck somewhere between desperately embarrassed and unfairly pleased with himself.

“Man of Iron, this is the common area. Never before has knocking been required here.”

Thor was looking increasingly bemused by the second, and Clint sighed before tucking himself back into his trousers. Tony bit back a petulant whine, but couldn’t stop the forlorn expression on his face.

“Sorry, Thor.” Clint grinned, “I didn’t realise you’d be back today! Phone ahead in future man. What you been up to in space?”

The god's eyes visibly lit up and he completely ignored the fact that he’d just walked in on his teammates, instead taking the bait and beginning to regale Clint with tales of Asgard.

The archer turned slightly and signed _Aw, baby, you can finish me later._ Tony just scowled and flipped the bird in response, heading away in a huff down to the lab.

“Hey JARVIS, you can switch off blackout mode now. You miss me?” Tony said in the lift down to the lab.

“Hello again, sir. Indeed I-“ JARVIS paused for a split second. “Pardon me sir, but there seems to be a series of readings in the workshop that may concern you.”

“What’s up J?”

“I am detecting a large energy spike and two heartbeats, however the cameras are all offline.”

Tony panics, before quickly moving into battle stations. “Full speed on the lift, alert any Avengers in the tower. We could be shaping up for an extremely expensive fight in the lab.”

There were many suggestions of what the danger may be flashing through Tony's mind. Hydra? AIM? “Please God, no more tigers.” He mutters, “I spent long enough finding places to rehouse those damn animals.”

The lift arrived at the floor, and the doors opened at lightning speed. Tony was just about to head for a suit when he decided he should take a moment to size up his opponent; boy was he glad he did.

There, tied together in the centre of the floor, were... some kind of prisoners? They looked weak and tired, and this is what made Tony approach them unarmed.

There was a young boy, probably only in high school, who was gagged and blindfolded. He was making quiet whimpering noises and was pulling harshly at the ropes. In seemingly direct contrast, there was a bulky long-haired man dressed fully in kevlar who was slumped back against the boy. A mask and goggles obscured his face, and he seemed to be muttering in Russian.

“Jesus Christ!” Tony gasped, running over. The young boy's head snapped towards the direction of his voice, but the man seemed fairly unresponsive. Deciding to focus on the boy, Tony yanked the gag out of his mouth. “What happ-“

At this point, Thor came crashing in through the window, Clint holding on for dear life. They landed, and Clint quickly nocked an arrow to point at the danger. Thor started swinging Mjolnir aggressively.

“Shit!” Tony cried, realising he called for other Avengers, “Stand down! It’s okay, they’re prisoners. I think.” He glanced a look back at the now ungagged boy and the cursing Russian. “Let’s just get them untied.”

Clint nodded, heading for the man whilst Tony went back to the boy. Grabbing a knife from the man’s pocket, he made quick work of the rope and the boy jumped up and plastered himself against the nearest wall. He untied his own blindfold then just stood there frozen.

Tony watched as Natasha- _Wait, when did she get here?_ \- approached the man and sat down. Even though the ropes had been cut, he hadn’t moved; instead he slumped forward and continued muttering in an increasingly distressed fashion.

“Я знаю кто вы.” Natasha said, and the man looked up sharply. _[I know who you are.]_

“Вы были в красной комнате. Мы боролись. Мы любили. Я больше не знаю этих эмоций.” The man replied, and Natasha’s face twitched, a glimmer of broken-heartedness under a mask of passivity. _[You were in the Red Room. We fought. We loved. I don’t know these emotions anymore.]_

“Любовь к детям. Мы были детьми.” _[Love is for children. We were children.]_

She stood quickly and moved to one of Tony’s holographic screens. “I knew him. I have some… personal files on him from my servers. I’ll find what I’m willing to give to you.”

“Thanks, Nat.” Clint smiled at her, and she looked at him with eyes that begged not to be asked any questions. He obliged.

Tony turned to the boy, who was shaking against the wall. “Hey, kid. You know who I am?”

The boy nodded, and he even smiled slightly. “T-Tony Stark. Is-is-. Um, are we in your w-workshop?”

“We sure are. You got a name?”

“Peter.”

“Well Peter, welcome to Avengers Tower. I gotta ask, are you armed? We have a policy; no weapons unless you’re an Avenger, and then it’s a competition to have the most.”

Peter shifts slightly, seeming uncomfortable. “Um. They’re not weapons unless they have to be?”

“Anything can be a weapon, babe!” Clint called out, “You just gotta try hard enough!”

Despite the circumstances, Peter giggled quietly. Tony chuckled too, meeting the kid’s eyes with gentle reassurance. “I don’t really like secrets, but we just met, and you had a real scare. Is that something you can tell me about later?”

“U-uh. Yes Mr Stark, probably, later. Yeah.”

Clint sauntered over and stood next to Peter. He was no longer flattened against the wall, so Clint slung an arm around him. The boy slumped into him slightly, and Tony melted slightly at seeing his boyfriend care for this sweet kid.

Natasha seemed to have given up sorting through files, and she went back over to the man. “I know you speak English. Fluently. Get up, Soldat.” She spoke coldly, and Tony could swear he saw a slight flinch from the man.

He got up efficiently, and Natasha pulled the goggles from his face.

“Natalia,” he snapped, “put those back. These are strangers.”

This was clearly the wrong thing to say, as she steeled her face and her eyes dulled. Her expression was as sharp as flint. “These aren’t strangers, they’re family. I don’t know why you’re here, but you’re in my home. And clearly you kept no kindness towards me, so I shall have none for you if you don’t _do as I say._ ”

“Shield brothers, visitors,” Thor spoke for the first time, “perhaps we should move this somewhere else. No matter the circumstances, young Peter and this man are our guests. Perhaps the common room is more appropriate?”

Natasha nodded, and so Tony shrugged and headed for the elevator. “Sure thing. We can get some drinks and talk through who our visitors are and how they got here. Also, JARVIS, get someone in to fix the window Thor broke.”

“I already did, sir.”

Everyone piled into the elevator and it was a quick ride up to the common room. Tony tried not to let his mind wander to what he and Clint were doing in there just a short while earlier.

“You’re flushing sweetheart,” Clint muttered into his ear, “are you thinking bad thoughts Tony?”

“You know I am, shut up!” He hissed back, but Clint just laughed at Tony’s embarrassment.

“Something funny, Barton?” Natasha raised one eyebrow, “I don’t think Peter over here is old enough to overhear whatever is causing Stark to turn bright red.”

“I-I’m fifteen.”

_Jesus Tony, mind out of the gutter, he really is a kid._

Mercifully, the elevator doors pinged and opened, allowing the Avengers and their guests to pile into the common room. Natasha headed for the kitchen, simply stating “tea” as she went.

“Um, Mr Stark?” Peter piped up nervously. “I don’t like tea.”

Tony chuckled and shook his head slightly. “Don’t worry kiddo, Nat'll probably bring back some lemonade too, Clint refuses to drink tea.”

This seemed to relax Peter, who chose a squashy leather couch and settled down in one corner. Tony thought he was taking this surprisingly well, but maybe there is more to the boy than meets the eye. He makes a mental note to keep an eye on Peter.

“Am I good to sit here?” He asks the kid, who stares at him wide-eyed but nods. Clint comes to sit on Tony’s other side.

“Shouldn’t we call Steve?” Clint asks, slinging an arm around Tony’s shoulders.

“He’s on a mission with Maria. No point disturbing him for something as simple as a break-in.”

“Tony, they got into one of the most secure buildings in the United States.”

“Semantics.” He waved his hands around to dismiss the point, trying very hard not to think about the effort required to get into Avengers Tower.

Tony glanced over at the Russian man at the other side of the room. “Hey Terminator, you’re allowed to sit down y'know.” The man shuffled his feet for a moment, before gingerly sitting in an armchair as if he was expecting to be dragged out of it at any second.

“You got a name, man?” Clint asked, and the man, worryingly, had to think about it for a while. “I have no need for a name. My handlers call me Soldat.”

“If you hadn’t realised, that is Russian for soldier.” Natasha said, appearing at exactly the right time. “Tea. And lemonade.” She placed the trays she was carrying on the coffee table, and took one of the cups of tea, seating herself next to Thor on the couch opposite Tony's.

Peter and Clint grabbed the lemonade, whilst everyone else went for tea. Well, Natasha gave Soldat a cup of tea as he didn’t seem all that inclined to get his own. Tony wondered how much free will that man had left.

“I think,” She said, after drinking a sip of her tea, “we should start with Peter. If that’s alright with you?” Natasha phrased it as a question, but she didn’t leave much space to refuse.

“Uh- yep! Fine, fine. What do you want to know? Probably a lot actually, but-“ Peter rambled. Tony put one finger over the boy’s mouth to quiet him.

“Better idea,” Tony said, “we ask questions and you answer. Cool?”

Peter nodded, and so did Natasha, as if her approval was relevant (it was, somehow).

“I’ll start this off.” She stated, and nobody dared argue. “Name?”

“Peter Parker.”

“You said you were fifteen?”

“Yeah, but almost sixteen!”

Clint laughed at that, eyes glinting with amusement. “Been there kid, except I was waiting around to be old enough to drink without forging an ID.”

“Babe, don’t be a bad influence. He’s innocent!” Tony whined, covering Peter’s ears.

“He was tied to one of the most dangerous men in the world.” Natasha deadpanned. “Why?” She directed her attention back to Peter.

He looked at Tony, seemingly for some sort of reassurance. He did his best to nod in an encouraging fashion, and it seemingly worked, as the kid visibly summoned courage.

“I’m- um. Please don’t be mad at me? Or expose me? But like, you guys are the Avengers, so if anyone would get it you would, however-“

Clint cut Peter off with “It’s alright. Whatever you’re scared of, it’s probably unfounded and made of internet lies.”

“I’m Spiderman.” He said quickly, eyes dropping to the ground as if he was scared of the repercussions.

Silence ensued. Tony’s jaw was on the ground, Natasha was boring holes into Peter with her eyes and Clint was covertly searching up photos of Spiderman. The Soldier was staring into his tea as if trying to read his fortune from it.

“Man of Spiders, you are neither dressed like nor made of spiders.” Thor commented, thoroughly confused by the kid’s hero moniker.

“Oh, uh, it’s because of my power, I guess?” Peter tried to explain, “I have these... things on my wrists that shoot material similar to that of spider silk? I call them my web shooters! When I fire them I can swing around the city on the webs, kinda like a spider can?”

“Ah, a worthy comparison then!” the God boomed, “I am certain you live up to the name!”

Peter, despite the bizarre situation, blushed at the praise. Tony decided that he _did_ need to keep an eye on the kid, if not to work out why he was so at ease surrounded by heroes, then to understand how that web fluid worked. He’d seen the YouTube videos, and he was quite impressed.

“One last question.” Natasha interrupted his thoughts (rude) and looked at Peter. “How did you end up here?”

The boy winced and twiddled his thumbs a bit. “I uh, don’t really remember. I was just in my room, I was revising for my chemistry test! And then there was this green flash of light, and a man grabbed me. Didn’t actually see him like, at all? But he gagged and blindfolded me. I was a bit worried but like I was planning my escape, until I was tied to uh... Soldat? Then I was somehow transported and the next thing I saw was your lab.”

When he finished his explanation, Tony sat back thoughtfully. “Well, I’d say that’s good enough. What about Edward Metalarm over there?”

The Soldier shot him a withering glare in response, but Tony just quirked an eyebrow and took it.

“No.” The soldier said, before looking at his cup of tea as if figuring out how to drink it.

“Боже мой.” Natasha muttered, before turning to face the man and taking another sip of tea, moving deliberately as if to show him how. _[Oh my God.]_

He copied her movements exactly, and looked down at the liquid bewildered. “It’s good.” He stated tonelessly, and Natasha nodded.

“It seems he’s missing some important things,” she spoke with a twinge of sadness, “so I’ll cover the backstory.”

“Most of the intelligence community doesn’t believe he exists.” She paused a moment, glancing over at the Soldier. “The ones that do call him The Winter Soldier. I… have some personal history with him.”

“I thought he was a ghost story.” Tony interrupted, “I went looking for him after some tip-offs. Turned up nothing.”

Natasha looked unnervingly upset about the whole situation. “He helped train me. Back in the Red Room. The Soldier was everything I had, but he was needed for... other means.” She clenched her jaw, “The next time I saw him was in Odessa. He shot his target through me, just as he saw right through me like we had never even met. It seems his memory may be compromised.”

As she finished her story, everyone turned to look at the Soldier. He was taking another sip of tea, repeating the exact motion Natasha made minutes earlier.

“What that doesn’t explain,” Tony said, “is why he showed up in my lab tied to Spiderman.”

“Let me try something.” Natasha straightened up, “Солдат! Отчет о миссии. Как ты сюда попал?” _[Soldier! Mission report. How did you get here?]_

Much to everyone’s surprise, the Soldier sat bolt upright and his face went from neutral to entirely blank. “Похищен. Вспыхнул зеленый свет. Я провалил свою миссию.” _[Kidnapped. Green light flashed. I have failed my mission.]_

“Again with the green light?” Tony asked, frowning.

“It does seem to be an important detail. Perhaps we are missing something?” Thor queried, perplexed by the circumstances.

Natasha’s expression darkened considerably. “Stark, you speak Russian?” She spoke dangerously, like a predator hunting its prey.

“Я говорю на восьми яязыка Романова, разве это не в ваших файлах?” _[I speak eight languages Romanoff, isn't that in your files?]_

“ _Anyway,_ ” Clint butts in, before everyone gets far too angry with each other, “there was a kidnapping and now these guys are here. And whaddya know, it’s fucking Tuesday. So let’s just figure this shit out, yeah?”

“U-um, Mr Barton?” Peter piped up nervously.

“Kid, do I look like a Mr anything? Call me Clint.”

“Okay I uh, would really like to just go home and keep doing my homework now. I mean this is awesome! And you guys can have my number if you need me or something? But I definitely should go home now. So.”

Tony chuckled at Peter’s rambling and desire to go back to his homework. “Sure thing Peter. I’ll call my driver, he’ll have you taken back to wherever you live. Wait, where _do_ you live?”

“Queens! So uh, not too far?”

Tony nodded. “Useful. Here, gimme your number, I’ll be in touch okay?”

As Peter and Tony exchanged numbers, Clint got up and pulled Natasha aside. “What the hell do we do about The Winter fucking Soldier? We can’t just send him back to- oh shit.”

“Guys,” he said to the entire room, “some very unsavoury people are likely to be looking for this guy. Have we just painted a massive target on our backs?”

“We will vanquish any foes who come to take this soldier from us!” Thor announced.

“We will avoid any more property damage so the media doesn’t rip us into shreds!” Tony countered in the same tone, except with a lot more sarcasm and a lot less volume.

“It seems,” Natasha spoke dangerously, “you boys may need those files, and they're not on the servers. Whilst I’m getting them, everyone else needs to be _vigilant._ He’s one of the most dangerous men in the world, and has been since fifty years ago.”

With that, she swiftly left the room, leaving the rest of the Avengers and Peter fairly concerned about their safety.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to flashback town, population: Natasha Romanoff. And Clint's along for the ride.

Natasha is one of the last women you’d ever describe as sentimental.

She’s burned all her possessions on multiple occasions, she’s had friends and lovers pass her by, she’s lived in more places than she’d care to count. And she’s perfectly fine with that, thank you very much Phil. She doesn’t ever miss things, despite what her handler has to say about it.

Quietly, Natasha accepts that she has two exceptions.

The first exception to her rule is one human dumpster fire, aka Clint Barton. First, she simply owed him a debt, and she intended to repay it fully. Russians aren’t sentimental, but they know damn well that they can’t leave anything unfinished. Then, despite all the walls she had up, he inched his way into her heart in a way that she truly believed was trained out of her. She loves him like a brother and a best friend and will continue to do so for as long as she is consciously able to do so. She’ll always miss Clint when he’s gone.

The second exception was currently sat in the common room, struggling to drink a cup of tea.

“Не позволяй этому дойти до тебя, Романов.” Natasha muttered to herself angrily. _[Don’t let this get to you, Romanoff.]_

She strode stormily to her room and started digging around for an old USB stick and some paper files that she buried far into the depths of her stores. “I hoped I wouldn’t ever have to look at these again.”

“You don’t have to, Tasha. You never have to.”

Clint dropped out of the vents, landing effortlessly onto the chest of drawers that Natasha keeps suspiciously clear on top. Natasha glared at him, but forced herself to relax, knowing that Clint could be trusted with this.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed, “you deserve better than this. I was going to tell you about this part of me, but…”

“I understand,” he spoke quietly, “and you owe me nothing. When you told me your story, all of it, that night in Burma, I knew it was _your_ story. I don’t know that guy beyond the ghost stories, but whatever you had with him was the story for both of you. You never claimed to tell me everything ever. I don’t need to know him to know you.”

Natasha was, resolutely, not crying. Her eyes were… resetting.

“It seems,” Natasha spoke slowly, pulling out three folders and a crimson USB, “that it’s storytime.”

Clint grinned, and clapped like a small child being told he was getting his favourite fairy tale before bed. He collapsed onto the sofa and gave Natasha puppy eyes. Smiling, she sat at one end and placed Clint’s head on her lap, starting to methodically run her hands through his hair.

“Once upon a time,” she began, “there was a weapon with the body of a man and a girl with the mind of a weapon.”

“Again.” Natalia ground out, picking herself up off the floor.

“You won’t beat me,” the man said, “none of the others did.”

“I know. But every loss will bring me closer.”

The man seemed impressed by this, and shifted into a fighting stance. Ignoring the pain shooting through her body, Natalia did the same, before quickly dodging a punch. Where the man was brute force and anger, she was deadly elegance and neutrality. Aiming a kick at his left shoulder, she noticed a twitch in her opponent’s face when her boot met its target. Natalia focussed all her attacks towards this area from then onwards, recognising that the metal arm likely met the rest of his body in that location.

After a few well-aimed hits, she had a silver fist slammed around her throat, and was struggling to breathe. In the end, she had to tap out, unable to avoid the overwhelming strength of her opponent. Natalia fell to the floor, but regulated her breathing as best as she could to avoid showing weakness.

“Good.” The man said, watching as she picked herself up as best as she could. He turned towards the large mirror, which Natalia knew was actually a window. “This one.”

Immediately, one of her teachers and a man she didn’t recognise entered the room.

“Well done, Natalia,” her teacher spoke with a faux-pleasant voice, “you have proven yourself to be the best. This man will be training you for the next six months to better you even further.”

The other man tightly gripped Natalia’s shoulder and started walking, her new trainer following closely behind. The three of them walked briskly through the corridors, and into the restricted area. Down three flights of stairs, along the corridor and left into what seemed to be self-contained quarters.

“This is where the two of you will be for the next six months. You eat, you sleep, you train. You will not see anyone else for the duration of this time. Understood?” The man glared, so Natalia nodded, where her trainer stood in silence, making no movement at all.

“Good. I’ll collect you in six months.” He left, locking and bolting the door behind him.

Natalia took her time exploring the quarters. She found an expansive gym and firing range, which took up over half of the space. There was an open living and kitchen area, a small bathroom and one bedroom with two single beds inside. All of her possessions were inside, she noted, understanding that her teachers expected her to prove the best fighter.

She decided to seek out her trainer, to learn about the man who she would be spending the next six months with. Natalia found him in the living area, stripping off his armoured jacket.

“Do you have a name?” She asked.

“No.”

“Then what do I call you?”

“My handlers call me Soldat.” He looked down at his shoes, seemingly unsure as to whether that was a name.

“That can be a name. I am Natalia Alianovna Romanova.”

The man nodded once. “I was given a file on you. This training facility works very differently to what I expected.”

Natalia paused. “And what did you expect?”

“Soldiers. Weapons, like me. You are people.” Soldat seemed to decide that the conversation was over, and he pulled out four throwing knives, proceeding to sharpen them. Deciding not to push, Natalia returned to the bedroom where all of her weapons and been placed, and proceeded to stash them around the quarters.

Half an hour later, Soldat appeared in the gym, as she was hiding a Glock in the wall cavity. “There is an issue with the facilities provided.”

“How so?”

“There is no intravenous equipment. There is no chamber.” He seemed perplexed, and Natalia wondered why this strange man thought those necessary.

“Why do you need an IV?”

Soldat looked at her like she was out of her mind, but answered anyway. “I will eventually die without enough liquids and calories. I will also be in sub-optimal condition if I am without a chamber, as it provides rest.”

“Your body can intake those things through eating and drinking.” Natalia was quietly horrified by how this man could be unaware of this. “And what does a chamber do that sleeping does not?”

Soldat was visibly offended by the words that left her mouth. “I am a weapon. I am the Fist of Hydra. I am not human, I do not eat, drink or sleep. I am given sustenance intravenously and I am cryogenically frozen for rest.”

Natalia had thought that disgust had been trained out of her, but it seems that it still had its claws in her stomach. “You are human. Enhanced possibly, but human all the same. If I gave you water to drink, you could drink it.” She stormed out of the training room to the kitchen and got a glass of water. Soldat had followed her, and was standing in the doorframe. She handed it to him and hissed “We are not weapons. Drink slowly, your stomach will not be used to handling anything.”

He looked at the glass speculatively, and then back up at Natalia. “How?”

She cursed, before getting her own glass. She tilted it up slightly, taking a small sip of water and swallowing. Soldat imitated her movements exactly, and seemed surprised that the water went down his throat. “I see.” He spoke tonelessly, robotically. “It seems I am missing some information.”

At dinner time, he watched calculatedly as Natalia prepared a simple meal of chicken, rice and vegetables. “You need a certain combination of foods for optimum health,” she explained patiently, knowing he didn’t want to ask. “Protein comes from meats and some beans, such as chicken.” She pointed at the pink chunks currently boiling in the bot. “Fruit and vegetables contain important vitamins and minerals, they’re in the pot with the meat. Carbohydrates such as rice,” she gestured at the other pan, “are the body’s main source of energy. They’re an important staple in your diet.”

Soldat nodded, and took another sip from the glass of water he’d slowly been working his way through.

When the meal was cooked, she dished it out on a plate for herself and poured a glass of apple juice for Soldat. She gestured towards the small table, and he sat on one side. Natalia placed her plate on the other side, and placed the apple juice in front of Soldat. “This is apple juice. Apple is a fruit and will sustain you more than water. Tomorrow, I will try you on more filling liquids, such as yoghurt and soup.” He nodded again, and they ate and drank in silence.

When night came, Natalia explained the concept of sleeping to Soldat, and he mimicked her in the way he lay down, before shifting into a different position that was seemingly more comfortable. She waited until he fell asleep before allowing her own eyes to drift closed, taking great pleasure in the fact that she would have six months where she was not handcuffed to her bed.

“Tasha, they did what??” Clint cried out, “Handcuffed to the bed?”

“It was efficient. We were taught to pick locks, but nobody could escape the Red Room’s handcuffs.” Natasha replied, “Now hush. Or don’t you want to hear the story?”

Clint huffed slightly, but shifted his head back down into her thighs and settled. Her fingers went back into his hair.

Natalia was woken by thrashing from the bed next to her. Lightning-fast reflexes meant she had grabbed the gun from under her pillow and pointed it at- Soldat?

It seemed he was having a nightmare, something which no member of the Black Widow Program had. Nightmares mean regrets, her teachers always said, and a Black Widow does not regret. And yet, this man who once seemed infallible was now crying out in distress.

Thinking quickly, she harshly slapped his face and he bolted upright, breathing heavily. “What was that?” He panted, seemingly terrified.

“A nightmare. You’re either reliving past events in your sleep or your mind is creating new ones from experience. I suppose… if you were never taught to sleep, you would never have encountered this.” Natalia mused.

Soldat thought for a moment. “Do you get nightmares?”

“Hypothetically I could, but it was trained out of me years ago.” She paused. “What did you dream about?”

“I was in the mountains, it was snowing. I was wearing some sort of uniform. I was falling. But I don’t remember ever being dressed like that.”

Natasha sighed at the memory. “I knew at that moment, there was something seriously wrong with this man. The only way someone as fearless as him would get nightmares is if he _wasn’t always that man_.”

Clint’s eyes widened, seemingly trying to figure out how that worked.

“As the months went on,” Natasha said, “he was slowly… changing. Soldat became a man that he knew and didn’t know in equal quantities.”

Natalia and the soldier had been training for three months, and it was, in her opinion, an excellent arrangement. He was a patient trainer, with enough stamina for long and valuable sessions. But she was also very aware of the complete one-eighty this man had done in the personality field.

Soldat went from a robotic man with little grasp of what it means to be human to a smirking, cocky alpha-type with a smooth Brooklyn accent that came from almost nowhere. His eyes shone brighter, he spoke louder with inflection, he _felt emotions_. And Natalia went from feeling like a parent teaching a child to the little girl with bright red pigtails, staring wide-eyed at the handcuffs on her bed.

So how is it that this man has all the makings of a personality, yet doesn’t have a name? And what made him forget how to be the man he is?

“Mornin’ Natalia, you ready for today? We’re doin’ strength training.” Soldat smirked, the kind of smirk that Natalia usually made use of when doing the more feminine aspects of her work.

“Good morning, Soldat.” She was feeling equal parts troubled and distracted today, mind on the personality change of her trainer and his lack of a name.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked, concern on his face.

“Why don’t you have a name?” Natalia blurted, before berating herself for not keeping her emotions in check. “It’s just…” she continued more delicately, “Soldat isn’t a name, it’s Russian for soldier.”

He looked surprised, before smiling sadly. “It seems I am a man who believed he was a weapon. There was… a machine. It hurt everything when they used it, and when it was done I was confused but compliant. I remember how I acted then, and I was missing quite a lot. Like when we first met. Food, drink, sleep, that machine got rid of all that.”

Natalia was horrified. “They brainwashed you?”

Soldat laughed humourlessly. “The Red Room has messed you up, too. They just chose a more subtle route. But you didn’t hear that from me doll.”

“This is my job. It’s all I’ve known and all I intend to be. I will be the greatest Black Widow the world has known because it is my duty to.”

“See, the thing that worries me most is that I believe that, entirely.” He looked bitter. “One day you’ll be known by that title, I’m sure of it. When we next meet, I’ll be the Winter Soldier and you’ll be the Black Widow. And I won’t even remember your name, or the way you stole my damn knives because they were ‘sleeker’.”

Natalia stopped dead. “I knew it wasn’t just a ghost story. The Winter Soldier, confirmed kills going back to the 1950s.” Everything slotted into place in her mind, it all made sense. “They cryogenically freeze you to preserve you and prevent you from ageing. They wipe your mind to make you compliant, make you the Soldier. They left you out of the machine too long, and you’re reverting to your previous self. That’s where the accent comes from, you’re from Brooklyn, right?”

Soldat smiled. “S’right. I’ve been entertaining similar theories myself, but I think they put something else in my head, makes me not wanna think about it, hurts if I try.”

“I think it’ll come back to you. You’ve remembered a lot recently.” She smiled, trying to ignore the emotions like she was taught. “Can we start training now?”

Soldat was understanding, and dropped the subject. They began talking about the day’s plan, and Natalia tried to remove the small seed of _something else_ that was planted firmly in her psyche.

That night, Soldat had a nightmare. This was fairly standard, Natalia had woken up and was keeping a sharp eye on him in case it was bad enough that he needed to be firmly shaken out of it. What wasn’t standard was how he was talking, repeating a phrase again and again. She moved closer to his head, listening to the panicked words. She couldn’t quite pick up all of it, Soldat was slurring the sentence together.

“Sergeant James…” He muttered indistinguishably, “32557”. This repeated a few times, and Natalia couldn’t help but wonder if that was his name. In the first nightmare she had witnessed, he mentioned wearing a uniform, and it would make sense that it was an army uniform if he was a sergeant.

Soldat was becoming increasingly distressed, so Natalia grabbed a pen and wrote down what he was saying before sharply shaking him. “Soldat! Stand down.”

After much experimentation, she has discovered that was most soothing to him. However, unlike usual, he didn’t wake and it degenerated into fearful Russian.

“He speaks Russian?” Natalia mused, considering her options. He’d never spoken Russian to her before, but the Soviet star on his arm suggests that’s a language he’s well-accustomed to. Taking a deep breath, she changed tack. “Солдат! Стоп. Проснись!” _[Soldier! Stop. Wake up!]_

He bolted upright, eyes cold and empty. “Готов к моей миссии.” _[Ready for my mission.]_

Natalia scrambled, unsure of how to handle this situation. She remembered how he acted at the start of their time together, and tried to drag together a response. “Успокойся, солдат. Твоя миссия - обучить меня, помнишь?” _[Calm down, soldier. Your mission is to educate me, remember?]_

She watched the cold slowly drain out of his eyes, and took a chance on English. “Soldat, it’s okay. You don’t have to be the Winter Soldier, not with me. Remember?”

A sharp flare of recognition shot through his eyes, and he immediately slumped forward. “Damn- ‘Talia? What the hell was that?” Soldat was visibly very shaken, but he was trying to pull himself together best as he could.

“It appeared to be two equally strong flashbacks, you wouldn’t wake up. I… heard you talking. That’s why I tried Russian.” She spoke stoically, as if recounting an exercise to a trainer.

“What was I saying?”

Natalia shifted slightly, and picked up the notebook she wrote in. “Well, the second half was fairly standard. You were speaking fearfully in Russian, generic pleases and nos. The first half was much more significant.” She paused to find the right page in the book. “I couldn’t make out everything you were saying, but you said “Sergeant James”, then something unintelligible, then “32557”. I- does that spark any recognition for you?”

His head had jerked up, and he was staring wide-eyed at Natalia. “James. James. That’s my name, Natalia, it feels like it has to be. It sounds right. I mean, I’m missing something but, it’s right, I know it.”

“James.” She tested the name on her tongue. “It suits you much better than Soldat.”

“Christ, Nat!” Clint exclaimed, trying to pick his jaw up off the floor. “You know the Winter Soldier’s _name_?!”

“I do. Even at the time, I knew this wasn’t something anyone was supposed to know. His personality had been buried so far underneath his conditioning that his name should’ve been lost forever. And yet, there I was, calling him James.” Natasha sighed. “That was my undoing, really. He became something more in my mind that day.”

Now that Natalia knew James’ name, all her rules about getting attached were left in the dust. And to make it worse, he seemed to be following her lead; he became even more friendly and _flirty_ which was a new experience for her. She’d never had anyone she was so close to pay her this type of attention. Flirting was for ops, for strangers, not this man who had steadily become her everything.

“I’m going to ask you something, and it’s going to be frank,” Natalia stated, stalking into the living room and standing in front of James, who was sat on the couch sharpening his knives.

He nodded and gestured for her to go ahead. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Sure am.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

James raised one eyebrow, smirking. “Because I feel like it? Because ‘Talia, you’re gorgeous and you are _well_ aware of that. Have I gotta continue?”

“So, you’re interested in a relationship? You practically said it yourself, we won’t see each other once our time in here is up. And if we do, it certainly won’t be on the same terms.” Truth be told, Natalia was nervous. She wanted to try this, try having emotions without anyone else ever knowing. But she didn’t want to deal with what pain may come once they part ways.

She knew James had just read her thoughts from her tone of voice and the look on her face. “My turn to be honest then.” He sighed and directed his gaze towards the knife in his hand, flexing his grip slightly. “When I leave here, I’ll bet ya any money that I’ll be shoved straight in cryo. They’ll wipe my mind and even if I remember you, I won’t remember these damn… feelings I have.” He took a deep breath. “I want to know that I had this, once. Even if I look back on it emotionlessly, even if I forget, I bet there’s a little part of me that’ll remember the time when I was loved.”

Natalia was speechless. She coughed slightly and looked him dead in the eye.

“What you’re asking me for will hurt me when you’re gone. I don’t get the luxury of forgetting.”

“I know.” He shifted slightly, watched as the plates in his arm recalibrated. “It’ll hurt you, and ‘m sorry about that. But it could also give you comfort. It would remind you that you’re just as human as I am, Natalia Romanova.”

The admission of humanity was all it took in the end. She visibly crumpled, taking his knife and hurling it expertly into a target on the wall before straddling his lap. “For the humanity.”

“For _our_ humanity.”

James slipped a hand into Natalia’s hair and tugged her forward, far enough that their lips almost touched. She rolled her eyes and leaned in the last few millimetres, joining their lips in a surprisingly soft kiss. James’ lips were soft and easy to melt into, his movements were slightly jerky but had a gentle undertone. They kissed passionately and emotionally, throwing feelings into the mix that they never really knew they had the capacity to feel.

When they eventually had to pull apart for air, James was grinning and Natalia was wearing a soft expression of surprise. “I never knew a kiss could portray so much. It was only ever a tool.” She spoke softly, ducking her head into his neck.

“I remember bits of this back in my old life. But I don’t think it ever felt like that, ‘Talia.” His grin turned positively salacious, and he pulled her back up to his lips.

The next three months were, Natalia is careful to admit, the greatest of her life.

She and James were still training, still improving, but their spare moments were spent joined at the hip (or the lips) and she loved it. They had pushed their beds together and they spent their nights tangled together, and James stopped having nightmares so often.

Overt flirting and touches filled their days whilst quiet declarations of love were shared in the night, and for a while, everything was as close to perfect as things had ever been in her memory.

It was so perfect that, for the first time in her life, Natalia lost track of time.

It was a normal morning for them- they made breakfast together, cooking interspersed with affection and soft touches. They ate at the table, discussing their training. Natalia was now trained extremely well; some days she could even take down James. What wasn’t normal however was the pounding at the door.

Natalia slipped her mask into place and opened it, only to be faced with her teacher and the man she saw on the first day. “Time’s up, Natalia. You’ll come with us now, someone will collect your belongings.” She panicked internally, but didn’t let it show.

“I need five minutes. I have weapons hidden everywhere and I need them back.”

“Fine.” They walked away, and she quickly closed the door.

Natalia slumped down on the floor, trying not to let her tears fall. She knew this would hurt, but she wasn’t prepared for just how gut-wrenching the feeling was. When she looked up, James looked equally stricken.

“It’s really been six months?” He looked like he’d just been shot in the stomach, doubled over and furiously wiping his eyes. “I’m not ready.”

“Nor am I,” Natalia admitted, “but we’re professionals. We’re the best. We can handle this.”

She got up and rushed over to James, soothing him as best as she could. He pulled her into his arms and buried his head in her hair, breathing in her smell. Natalia tucked her head into his shoulder, doing the same. “I really have to get those weapons.” She got up quickly but elected not to hide her face, trusting him to see her crying.

Natalia found solace in the methodical process of retrieving all her weapons, collecting them all and checking off the locations in her mind. When she was done, she returned to the lounge to either holster them or hide them in her other belongings. She saw James stood there, holding two knives.

They were Natalia’s favourite, and she made no secret of it. The blades were a sleek black chrome which shone in the light, and the handles were a deep red with a star carved into one side. Also, they were very sturdy and sharp, completely deadly.

“I want you to have these,” James said, startling her out of her thoughts. “I know how much you love them and, well, I don’t got much else to give ya.”

“Really? You’d give them to me?”

“Course, ‘Talia. Just… remember me. Us. ‘Cause if you forget too then it’s like it never happened in the first place.” James’ voice was pleading, and Natalia wanted to slap him around the face.

“Don’t be stupid, James. I couldn’t forget the man I love.” Her tone was chiding, but it was spoken so softly that it sounded more reassuring than she intended.

He removed the knives currently in her holsters and put them aside, replacing them with his. “If anyone asks, say they were mine and I trained you to work with them. They won’t question it.”

“Of course.”

There was a few moments of charged eye contact before they crashed together like they were starving. Their kiss was desperate and pleading, and tasted slightly salty from their tears. They kissed and kissed, the rough press of lips blocking out everything else. Natalia was the first to wrench herself away, breathing heavily. James’ lips were kissed red and his hair was mussed from Natalia’s hands running through it.

Loud banging on the door made them jump apart, faces going equally blank. “Natalia! Time’s up. Come out, and show us what you have learned.”

“I love you, James.” She whispered, face blank but her voice said everything her eyes didn’t.

“I love you too, Natalia. We’ll meet again.”

She didn’t reply, didn’t trust herself not to scream or shout about how unfair it is. She picked up her knives, handed them to him and walked out of the door, leaving their months of perfection behind her.

Natalia followed her teacher through corridors, and out to the presentation hall. Everyone from the Red Room was there, seemingly waiting on her. She was led up to the front, and the headteacher was waiting.

He stepped up to the podium to address the room. “As you all know, our most promising student Natalia Romanova has spent the past six months training with the Winter Soldier. Now, she will demonstrate to you what she has learned.”

Five men that Natalia had never seen before entered the room. They were very muscular, dressed in black tactical gear and heavily armed. The men walked up to her, and went into defensive positions, ready to strike when given the command to do so. Needing no further explanation, Natalia unsheathed James’ knives and braced herself.

“Commence.”

All five men threw themselves at her immediately, and she quickly dodged their blows and used one of their shoulders to swing herself around and knife one of them, getting him in the abdomen. There was no talking- Black Widows didn’t need to distract their opponents with words. She fired a couple of bullets, but she fought mostly with the knives, finding comfort in fighting with a little part of James. After about five minutes of quick thinking and dirty moves, she was down to one man.

“You and me, little lady. Think you’ll come out on top?” He taunted, and the way he smiled made Natalia feel dirty inside.

“Yes.” She replied simply, lunging at him and tackling him to the ground. They writhed on the floor, pushing at each other until she had him pinned with a blade against his neck. He made a fatal error when he put all his focus on pushing the knife away- the man wasn’t focusing on any other potential attacks. Natalia simply moved the arm not pinning a blade to his throat, grabbing her other knife and slamming it swiftly into his side, before pulling it out and doing it again higher up. He cried out loudly, telling the headmaster to stop, not to let her kill him.

He did nothing, simply observed as Natalia got up and kicked him hard in the head, knocking him out where he lay.

Silence fell for a few moments. The headmaster turned towards her, and said “Good work, Romanova. You’re ready for graduation.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long to finish this, it's the most words I've ever attempted to write. I'm failing an a-level to write this stuff.

Natasha sat in pointed silence, watching as Clint processed everything he’d just heard. He’d stopped interrupting after she’d got into the more romantic side of their past relationship, and she wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing.

“I’m so sorry Tasha, I’m not so great at emotions and relationships but… even I know that’s gotta sting.” He smiled grimly, shifting onto his back to look back up at her. “You loved him, you lost him, he forgot you and now he’s drinking fucking tea in the tower.”

“If you must put it so bluntly, yes.” She sighed. “The paper files are practically his whole life story. If I had any spare favours, I called them in trying to learn more about him. The USB is video footage of when we last crossed paths. But I haven’t got anything more on him since Odessa. Having confirmation that your only love has forgotten you is something that even I struggle to bear.”

“So,” Clint paused, “what do we do about him?”

Natasha furrowed her brow at him, as if to tell him to _get on and explain_.

“Well,” he said, “you said after a while he started to remember. Maybe we could do the same, make Soldat back into James.”

“We’d be painting a huge target on our backs.” She protested weakly.

“Okay, that’s it, we’re keeping him.” Clint jumped up off the couch and held out a hand to his best friend. “You don’t have to tell them you loved him, although if Tones knows Russian I may have to bribe him to shut up, he probably heard you earlier. Either way, all we say is he was, and still is, very important to you. You’ve never asked for anything like this before, and I’m pretty certain that you never will again. You’ll also never have another chance as good as this to get him back.”

Natasha slipped one of her knives out of her holster. She still uses the same ones, refuses to fight with anything else. Twirling it in one hand, she thought about having another chance. “Okay.” She said simply.

Clint genuinely jumped for joy, and dragged Natasha out of her room, grabbing the files and USB on the way.

The two of them reappeared in the common room; Clint was grinning widely whilst Natasha was reserved and, if she was honest with herself, nervous about what she was asking of her team. Nervous that she’s lost the cocky James that she’s loved for two decades.

The whole room turned to face them, save for Soldat, who kept staring straight ahead. Tony’s eyebrows had practically hit the ceiling, and he blurted “Darling, I’m frankly terrified by your face right now, especially since Scary Spice looks like she’s gonna sink into the floor.”

Natasha glared at him, and he simply shrugged.

“Baby, read the files and shut up.” Clint quirked a quick smile and handed them over, but his tone of voice made Tony sit up slightly and take them. His eyes instantly widened. “How did you get these?! I spent a damn age searching for something with even half of the information in one of these!”

“I’ve been collecting these since the nineties Stark, and they’re one-of-a-kind. You likely started searching long after I did.” Natasha smirked, and Tony scowled before turning his attention back to the files.

“So,” Clint said, attempting to take charge of the room, “the Soldier’s staying. Any objections?”

Thor frowned. “Did you not say that keeping him here would make us a target? What changed your mind?”

“Nat’s a great storyteller.”

The room turned to her expectantly, and she winced slightly. “I didn’t lie when I said he was all I had. I also… know how to fix him. I did it once before, in a way.”

“Is that what you would call it?” Soldat spoke for the first time since they returned, but he didn’t turn around. “I would call it breaking all of my protocols. You left me compromised. My handlers returned me to normal function, but it took seven attempts. You had weakened my mind, my resolve, my drive. To this very day, I am malfunctioning.”

“It’s called humanity,” Natasha said stoically, refusing to cry in front of everyone. “What parts do you remember?”

“Nothing of our conversations, nothing of our training. I remember your face, I remember your physical form.” Soldat got up and walked over to Natasha, standing over her with steely eyes that assessed her.

Tony, with a surprising burst of tact, blurted something about going to the briefing room to assess the files, and dragged Thor out of the room whilst Clint tailed behind, shooting a look of reassurance to his best friend. The two of them were left alone.

Natasha’s gaze lifted from the floor to meet Soldat’s eyes. “I’m sorry I compromised you. You did the same to me, but it looks like everything panned out differently on this side of things.” He cocked his head expectantly, and she sighed. “You told me that the next time we meet, you’ll be the Winter Soldier and I’ll be the Black Widow. You were right- we met in Odessa and you shot your target right through me. You didn’t know me, yet you do now. How?”

“It has been one month since last maintenance. After three weeks out of cryofreeze, I begin to regain memories. I always see you. My handlers told me I felt love for you, and I was punished for it.” He dragged out the last sentence, speaking each for like it offended him to his very core.

“You forgot.” Natasha accused him viciously, tears falling against her will.

“Forgot what?” He snarled, “Childish love? I am glad to lose it, as I have no need for anything such as that. I know your name and your face, nothing else.”

“I know everything!” She shouted, crying fully now, left feeling like Natalia in their little underground apartment.

“I know what your handlers take from you when they freeze your brain. I know the way that you believe yourself to be a machine, how when you sleep you’re consumed by debilitating nightmares, how you’ve lived for nearly a hundred fucking years.” She took a deep breath, chanced a look at the man she loves. He was staring wide-eyed at her outburst, and she decided to continue.

“You cooked breakfast with me in the morning, we fought our way through the day and we slept intertwined like lovesick fools at night. You kissed me like the world would grind to a halt if we ever stopped, and I’d be lying if I said it kept turning when I walked out of the door. I keep your knives in my holsters and refuse to fight with anything else. I spent years telling myself love was for children because I knew that’s what I was when I loved you. A child. And if that means I never grew up, then so be it, because what’s the point in growing up if it means I lose you, James?!”

Natasha’s eyes blew wide when she realised she’d yelled his name. And James… looked like he’d been punched in the gut. “I- James?” He spoke quietly, unsure.

“That’s your name. Not Soldat. Not the Winter Soldier. _James._ ”

“ _It is_.” He breathed. “What- how did I know? This is not- isn’t-“ His voice increased in panic, and he began flailing and tugging at his own hair, growing more and more erratic until, just when Natasha was going to run for help, he collapsed on the ground.

“JARVIS! Get a med team, he’s down, I don’t know what happened!” Natasha cried out, and she sank to the floor next to him. In her head, she was the young girl again, crying against the door because she had five minutes left with her love. In reality, Tony and Clint came crashing into the common room with doctors behind them, trying desperately to get James to wake up and drag Natasha out of her own mind.

She vaguely remembers being stood up, and walking whilst leaning on someone. When her mind finally removes itself from its own walls, Natasha finds herself in medical, curled up in a chair next to Clint. Her vision is blurry, but she can make out James in the bed in front of her.

When she becomes more aware, she can hear a voice, talking soothingly but emphatically.

“I was a mile from Thornfield, in a lane noted for wild roses in summer, for nuts and blackberries in autumn, and even now possessing a few coral treasures in hips and haws, but whose best winter delight lay in its utter solitude and leafless repose.”

Natasha, after spending much longer than she would admit listening, eventually figures out that it’s Clint talking, reading a scene from Jane Eyre.

“If a breath of air stirred, it made no sound here; for there was not a holly, not an evergreen to rustle, and the stripped hawthorn and hazel bushes were as still as the white, worn stones which causewayed the middle of the path.”

“Clint, why in God’s name are you reading Jane Eyre aloud?” She slurs her words slightly, cursing her mind for closing itself off.

“I like reading to you. You know it’s how I used to drag you out of these. This is a new record, twelve fucking chapters, I’m annoyingly invested in this now.” Clint tilted his head to look at her, grinning boyishly like usual but with a pinch of worry in his brow. “You good, Tasha?”

“Just- memories.” Natasha sighs, stretching and sitting up in the plastic hospital chair. “This was the one thing I refused to think about for decades, and now I’ve yelled about it.”

“Fun.” He smiles, dropping the subject. “Doctors don’t know for sure what caused this guy to pass out, they’re assuming stress and his empty stomach probably led to it. Looks like he’s only had that tea, nothing else for days.”

“He doesn’t remember how to eat.” Natasha deadpanned, making Clint curse quietly.

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” he muttered, “explains why you had to show him how to drink the damn tea.”

They both lapsed into silence, a comfortable bubble of mutual understanding and respect. After a few minutes, Clint picked up Jane Eyre and continued reading. In yet another act of weakness, Natasha allowed the archer’s surprisingly soothing voice lull her to sleep.

When she woke, it was dark and she was alone in the room, save for James in the bed. She yanked a post-it from her forehead; it said ‘Back in the morning, don’t break your cold Russian heart even further -C’.

Sighing, Natasha tucked the note into a pocket before allowing herself to properly look at James. The only way she could think of to describe him was the eye of the storm; eerily peaceful when surrounded by such strength and pain. He lay still on the hospital bed, reminding Natasha of how she used to watch him sleep, except it felt like she was watching it through a window.

Their love was childish, a product of strict isolation and conditioning. It was a flashlight in a groaning cavern, illuminating their selfish needs and blacking out the rest of the world in a blind attempt at being human. But, as with all things, it ended. The batteries died and they were left groping against the rocks, crossing paths but never again crossing hearts.

“W-what happened?” A scratchy Brooklyn accent spoke, and Natasha’s entire spirit jumped into her throat.

“James?” She questioned tentatively, tone careful and searching.

She saw the moment his eyes widened, saw him sit up immediately and look directly at her, saw the way he blinked a few times as if to check it was real.

“I- fuck, ‘Talia? You- we-“ he was almost choking on the words, trying to find the right thing to say. “It’s all… cloudy in my head, and it hurts like a bitch but… I _remember_.”

Natasha stood silently, moved over to the bed and sat down at the end, legs crossed, just like she used to do. “What do you remember about today?”

“There was… a green light, then I was in a lab, and you were there. I remember knowing I didn’t love you because I wasn’t allowed, and that was that. I drank tea. I- shit, I yelled at you and then you _cried_ and said everything we never said back then. You said my name and my mind started screaming. Did I pass out or somethin’?”

She steeled herself, slipping a mask on, unsure of how to approach this. “Yes, you fell unconscious. I called the medical team, and now you’re in a med bay in Avengers Tower.”

James’ eyes flashed hurt, and Natasha flinched. She was fighting with her own psyche, a battle that she knew was showing in her face despite her best efforts. The childish side of her was itching to crawl into his arms and kiss him, the need to hold on and never let go was overpowering. Then there was this battle-hardened, exhausted side to her that never really existed back when they were together. A voice telling her to run and never look back, screaming that she was compromised, begging her to take Clint and hide in the underbelly of society and never return.

Her childishness was winning. Natasha looked up through her eyelashes, meeting James’ gaze for only a second, but it was enough for him to soften. As a peace offering, she reached into her holsters and pulled out her knives, placing them on the crisp hospital bedding.

“I didn’t get the luxury of forgetting. I spent twenty years hiding from six childish months in an underground apartment with the first person I ever cared about. You saw me, in Odessa. You didn’t know me and it still _hurts_. Forgive me for trying to protect myself.” She snapped tiredly, shrinking into herself.

“Forgiven,” James said simply, hesitating before picking up a blade, examining it. “These aren’t even replicas, they’re the real thing…” He spoke in a hushed tone, the words sounded almost reverent. “You still use these. After two decades.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, but Natasha nodded anyway.

James beckoned her over and she shuffled tentatively up the bed, settling gingerly on his calves. He tugged her towards him slightly before tucking the knives back where they belong, ghosting a touch over her thighs as he pulled back. “I don’t claim to remember everything. I know I’m missing so much, I see the briefest glimpses of a scrawny blonde in Brooklyn for fucks sake. But I remember you, us even. Please, God, ‘Talia, tell me that’s enough to get to keep you this time.”

Natasha studied his face, his body language, his demeanour. She saw nothing but blinding truth.

“For our humanity.” She stated humourlessly, before pushing forward so she was seated entirely in his lap, James’ arms automatically settled around her waist. With a deep breath, she pressed her lips against his, and the world burned around her.

Kissing him was like a breath of ash and smoke followed by the purest oxygen, a contradiction of harsh and soft that made her melt against him in a show of trust. He let out a light groan at that, slid one of his hands up her back to tangle in her hair and deepened the kiss. They still fitted together so perfectly that it was unreal, impossible and somehow the plainest truth Natasha had ever known.

She pulled back in a moment of clarity, and whispered “I love you, adore you and need you more than I would ever like to admit again.”

James broke out into a blinding smile, before returning “You’re the love of my fucked up life, Natalia Romanova.”

Tony Stark smiled a secret smile, erasing the security footage from room 1B of the medical wing and taking the live feed off his screen. He dropped a text to Steve about the mysterious break-in, received a text from his newest associate Peter Parker and smiled softly at the archer sleeping on the couch in his workshop.

Their merry bunch of superheroes are all sick of Avenging on Tuesdays, but today didn’t turn out quite as badly as expected. Except Tony is still waiting to finish off the blowjob he was giving his boyfriend that morning. Huh, maybe that’s a good way to wake him up later. Clint did ask Tony to get him up so he could go back to Natasha, after all. Maybe a different form of getting him up is called for, and Wednesdays are usually a much better bet for avoiding hero duties, after all. 


End file.
